


Monsters Among Us

by captaincumberbitch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Sherlock, Angst, Bondage, Bonding, Claiming, Forced Bonding, Forced Pregnancy, Forced miscarriage, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega John, Omegaverse, Rape, Scenting, This fic may kick you viciously in the feels, This is reprehensible and I'm sorry, Violence, dark!Sherlock, held captive, kidnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincumberbitch/pseuds/captaincumberbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, an Omega, is happily married to a Beta, Tim. They're expecting a baby. But because Tim's a Beta, they can't bond. John goes out one evening alone. And we all know what happens to unbonded pregnant Omegas.</p><p> </p><p>Dark!Sherlock is delighted with his prize. But when bodies start to turn up bearing the hallmark of a serial killer he never managed to catch, he can't trust anyone if he's going to keep his family safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stormclouds

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. Please don't read this and then complain about the content without reading the tags first. Thank you.
> 
> Chinese translation now available! http://archiveofourown.org/works/1129298/chapters/2277985 many thanks to LokiMalfoy :)

John smiled as he zipped up his jacket, the slight bump of his belly already nudging at the fabric where it rested against his stomach. “I’m just off to the shops love, we’re out of milk again,” he called to his husband, who came through and kissed him warmly. “Alright. Be careful,” Tim murmured, his hazel eyes full of love. He rubbed John’s little belly reverently as the Omega pulled away.

 

* * *

 

Huffing in annoyance at the cold, John dug his hands further into his pockets, the carrier bag looped around his wrist, milk bumping against his leg with every stride. He looked up and saw black clouds gathering in the dusky sky, cursing when he realised he’d forgotten his umbrella. He decided to take a short cut and ducked into a small alley; he used it reasonably regularly and it cut his journey time by nearly a third, so he didn't foresee a problem. He couldn’t have known that forgetting his umbrella would change his life.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock stuffed the bag of white powder in his pocket, staying put while his dealer slunk away and headed for the park. It had been so long since he’d had a fix, he’d been doing well, but lately he’d felt an awful gnawing in his gut – and when he’d realised it was _loneliness_ he’d called Tony at once. He would not allow himself to be so pedestrian.

Suddenly a scent hit him and he jerked as if slapped; it was sweet, ripe, _intoxicating_. Omega. Pregnant Omega. Pregnant, unbonded Omega. He wheeled around and caught sight of him, the short blond man striding right towards him. He bared his teeth in a grin. “Bit late to be out, isn’t it? Even for a former army doctor, as an unbonded pregnant Omega it’s a bit of a risk.”

John stared at him. “How did you…?” He half-shook his head, coming back to his senses. “I can handle myself. And not that it’s any of your business, but I’m married.” Sherlock cocked his head to one side. This was interesting. Married, but not bonded. The husband must be a Beta, then; Omegas couldn’t sire children and an Alpha would have bitten him by now. Why would an Omega choose to be with a Beta? “Married, but unsatisfied,” Sherlock purred, his voice silky. “You’ve never felt a real Alpha cock. You’ve never been knotted. He couldn’t even give you a child the proper way. Had to use IVF.” He crowded John up against the wall, pinning his wrists, scenting him, nosing along his jawline and down his neck. “You smell wonderful,” the detective mumbled, sounding a little annoyed. How dare this little Omega be so interesting? “So ripe... by your scent you're about four months along... how has nobody claimed you for their own yet?” The Omega smelled delicious, so obviously fertile, in need of an Alpha. Sherlock growled, low and primal. This Omega was _his_ now. "Mine," he hissed, nipping at John's neck.

John struggled furiously, trying to knee him in the crotch. “Fuck off!” he snarled, thrashing, “I’m perfectly satisfied you complete wanker! Now let me go!” Sherlock tutted as if disappointed and expertly shifted to pin John’s wrists with one hand, clamping the other leather-gloved hand over his mouth. “Don’t struggle… I’m only going to give you what you want. What you need. What you were made for. It’s a crying shame, a lovely Omega like you wasting yourself with a Beta… I’ll show you just how satisfying a real Alpha can be.” He inhaled deeply, the scent of the Omega seeping into his brain and curling in heady tendrils around his consciousness, urging him to bite, to mount, to possess… He scraped over the Omega’s scent gland with his teeth and lapped at it, moaning at the taste and nipping at it again, raising a red mark while John continued to try to throw Sherlock off him, frowning and shouting against the hand over his mouth. Sherlock simply purred and began canting his hips against the Omega’s, knowing the reaction it would have before too long. Simple biological responses, he’d never been grateful for them before - but now they were coming in quite handy. In less than a minute John was hard and twitching against him. He growled and increased the pace, the friction of their clothed erections exquisite and agonising. He wanted to sink his cock into the Omega’s wet hole, but that would involve not being able to pin his wrists or clamp his mouth shut and that simply wouldn’t do.

"You're _mine_ now," Sherlock rumbled, breath ghosting across John's ear. "I'll take care of you. Knot you properly. Give you a real litter to carry." John’s struggles grew weaker as the constant rubbing and the strong smell of the Alpha brought him closer and closer to orgasm in spite of himself. Fear still leaked into his scent, but he found himself caring less as the attention forced him to start to imprint on Sherlock’s scent until he was whimpering and keening, bucking his hips as tears stung his eyes. He wanted to go home, to Tim, he didn't want to want this, but even he couldn't defeat biology; he was programmed to please the Alpha and even the strongest Omegas could only resist for so long. He moaned needily, his cock pulsing against the fabric of his jeans, right on the edge. Sherlock growled, moving his teeth into position. The instant John came, Sherlock bit hard.


	2. Den

Sherlock kept his teeth locked on John's neck as the Omega rode out his orgasm, his own release drenching his trousers. His cock stayed hard and pulsing, the ripe Omega scent causing his knot to form, and he growled quietly as he finally released the bite. He began to lick it, lapping at it softly, lovingly, immensely pleased with his handiwork. "You're mine now," he murmured, delighted, kissing the now-sealed bondbite.

John whimpered, tears falling freely down his face. His Omega instincts had taken over, a self-preservation mechanism, but he still felt a deep, gut-wrenching sadness he couldn't place. Later, he'd remember it was for Tim, their life together, their baby. Now, though, there was only this Alpha in front of him, promising him protection. His bondmate. He whined, tried to press closer, nuzzle, breathe in the scent he couldn't help but want. The Alpha purred deeply and released his hold on John's wrists, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Mine," the Alpha rumbled, and John could only nod stupidly. Of course he was. He belonged to this Alpha. He felt safe.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take long for Sherlock to get his new Omega back to Baker Street, or to strip him and have him laid out on Sherlock's bed. The Alpha purred, crawling on top of his new mate, scenting, kissing, marking with his teeth. "Mine," he insisted, covering the Omega with his scent. John whined and nodded. "Yours," he agreed breathily, the hormones from the bond making him calm and pliant, even a little happy to finally be claimed by an Alpha. He flinched when Sherlock scented over his belly and let out a low, feral, rumbling growl. 

  
This wasn't right, Sherlock's brain supplied helpfully. _My_ Omega. _Mine_. Should be carrying _my pups_. Can't have a cuckoo in the nest. Must replace this one with my litter. He shuffled up the bed, scenting and licking, short huffs of breath warm against John's skin. His cock began to fill out, excited at the thought of what he was about to do. He straddled John none too carefully, caging the blond's head with his forearms, and latched on to his neck, sucking at his scent gland, lapping and teasing, so John would imprint further onto his scent. "You know you need to be full of _my_ pups, don't you?" Sherlock crooned, rubbing his now-stiff cock against John's rounded little belly. "Yes," John squeaked, eyes glazed, operating wholly on instinct. "Good Omega," Sherlock purred, shifting to kneel over John's chest. He began stroking his hard length, rapidly, without finesse. This wasn't about pleasure, this was about marking. Once John was covered in his seed, could taste it and smell it, his body would know who his Alpha was, and would reject the pup it was currently carrying as a self-defence mechanism to prevent injury. It wouldn't take long, Sherlock thought with satisfaction, John submissive and whimpering for his attention underneath him. The sight was like cocaine for Sherlock, _his_ Omega, all for him. He grunted and came, his release spilling over John's face and into his eager mouth. 

John hummed happily and licked up as much of his Alpha's semen as he could reach, becoming slightly drunk on the sensation. He began to pant lightly as his hormones changed in response to his Alpha, imprinting, tuning John's body to Sherlock's needs and wants. He slipped into semiconsciousness as the change completed, saving him from the full horrors of what was to come. 

  
Sherlock stalked to the bathroom to fetch towels and hot water, laying them beside the bed. John was already beginning to writhe with contractions, he noted, something in his chest purring with approval. He hurried to the living room and built a large fire in the grate, stacking kindling and newspaper twists, ready to dispose of the evidence. He lit it, needing it blazing by the time John was finished, and rushed back to the bedroom at a cry from his Omega.   
  
"Shh, it's alright, I've got you," he soothed, mopping John's forehead with a warm cloth, laying the towels out to catch the blood. He grasped John's hand gently, murmuring praises. "You're doing so well, being such a good Omega. Not long now." John panted, arched, groaned, still barely conscious. He wouldn't remember this later. It only took half an hour.

Sherlock took the blood-soaked bundle to the fire and cast it in, watching dispassionately as it was consumed. He was thankful it had been born sleeping. He returned to his mate, washed him tenderly, kissed him and held him in his arms. "Good Omega, you've done so well for me. Have a little rest now, you'll be ready for me soon. I'll give you my knot, fill you up with my huge Alpha cock, make you so satisfied, fill you up with a proper litter," he breathed, kissing his hair. John simply whined needily and snuggled closer, snuffling quietly as he relaxed into sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Tim paced the flat, panicking. John should have been back over an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone. None of their friends had seen him, and he couldn't track John by scent, being a Beta. They didn't have any Alpha friends who could have done it, and the police had promised to send someone round but he was still waiting. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when there was a knock at the door and rushed to open it, babbling rapidly at the obviously Alpha policewoman who stood in front of him.   
  
Once he was calm, cup of tea in hand, she requested the last thing John had slept in so she could identify and track his scent. Tim raked through the laundry basket and found one of his own t-shirts, a faded blue one that John liked to wear to bed. He handed it over with tears in his eyes. The policewoman sniffed it, scented it thoroughly, and nodded, stalking off to follow the trail. Her Beta companion stayed with Tim, explaining it was best to let her get on with it alone. She'd find John faster that way. 


	3. Ripe

Following the trail of John's scent, Helena made it to the corner shop. After a brief discussion with the manager she confirmed that John had bought milk and left at the expected time, so returned to the street and tried to pick up his trail again. It was almost impossible, since John had walked the same way to and from the shops, except for - ah. There. Down that alley. She followed the scent warily, not knowing what she might find, and stopped when she reached a new note in the scent. She sniffed the air. Fear. Sex. An Alpha. Ah. Right there, a changed scent. Bonded. She tried to follow the rest of the trail, but it stopped abruptly at the road at the other end of the alley. He must have gone in a cab.

  
She radioed her Beta colleague. "Harry, it's Helena - I've been to the shops and bought a pomegranate." She felt ridiculous, using the code, but Harry was much better at phrasing these things than she was.

 

Tim listened in disbelief as Harry explained that John had been claimed by an Alpha, and as such their marriage was annulled. Alpha/Omega relationships were highly desirable, since they were the most fruitful, and all other permutations were only tolerated in the absence of that option, so an Omega married to a Beta or another Omega who was subsequently claimed by an Alpha legally became that Alpha's mate, and the marriage was declared void as if it had never existed. Fear gripped his heart like ice; Tim knew what happened to pregnant unbonded Omegas. He had to find John. The police had given up, but he was damned if he was going to. He shouted at Harry until he asked Helena where she'd lost the scent, and armed with the information, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the flat.

 

* * *

 

John woke with a jerk, a sudden intake of breath and a confused moan. He blinked blearily and tried to sit up, but realised with a slow dawning of horror that he was tied by his ankles and wrists to a bed, lying spread-eagled on his back. He struggled viciously to get free, yelling furiously. "Let me go, you sick fuck! I'll bloody kill you!"

Sherlock sauntered back through, wearing nothing but a towel round his waist. "Not much incentive to let you go then, is it?" he purred, striding to the bed and running his hands over John's now-taut abdomen with satisfaction. That was the advantage of Omegas over Beta females; Omega skin and muscle was much more elastic, so they snapped back into shape almost immediately. "Don't worry, John. I'll take care of you."  
  
"How do you know my name?" John snarled, pulling at his wrist restraints. Sherlock picked up John's wallet and raised an eyebrow. "This was in your trouser pockets, so unless you stole it from your identical twin you must be John Hamish Watson Omega. But of course, introductions are now in order, aren't they? My name is Sherlock Basil Holmes Alpha. I'm _your_ Alpha, but... I think you knew that, didn't you?" he added quietly, his voice soft, as he continued to rub John's belly, massaging, almost encouraging it to prepare itself to carry Sherlock's pups.

Still fighting his sleepy haze, Sherlock's touch on his belly suddenly registered with John and stunned him fully awake. "You - you didn't!" he gasped, utterly horrified, struggling to raise his head, letting out a piercing, grief-filled wail when he saw his flat stomach. "You bastard," he sobbed brokenly, "you complete fucking bastard! My baby... oh god, why? Why did you have to kill my baby?!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he wept, his chest heaving, all fight gone from his flailing limbs. "You killed my baby, my little girl... She already had a name! You killed my Rachel, my baby... Oh god... What did you do with her?! Tell me!"

  
The Alpha didn't reply. He picked up a warm washcloth and carefully cleaned the tears and snot from the Omega's face, shushing him gently. "You know why I had to, John," he murmured quietly. "You were wasting yourself with that Beta. It's not what you were meant for, you were made to be with an Alpha. You shouldn't have had to go through all those rounds of IVF, your body _aches_ to conceive a full litter, your Alpha's litter. This grief will pass, you'll see, I can show you how amazing we can be together. I'm your Alpha now, I'll make sure you get what you need. It won't be long now, you're almost ready for me. I'll fill you up properly, knot you until you lose your voice from screaming in bliss, give you a real litter of my pups to carry, and it will all seem better. I'll be good to you John, you just have to let me."

  
As Sherlock spoke John gradually calmed, the shock wearing off, his Alpha's scent permeating his confused brain and soothing him. He breathed as noisily as possible through his nose to show his displeasure with the situation, but the awful thing was - the arrogant wanker was right. John had loved Tim, had been thrilled they were having a baby, but he'd always had this _missing_ feeling he couldn't shake. He wanted an Alpha, he wanted a knot. He always felt a little bit like a failure having to tell people he was only having one pup. He was too furious to admit any of this, but he stopped trying to get free. This Alpha, he was... not entirely awful. He could tell that he'd induced miscarriage the gentlest way possible, he hadn't been hurt, the ropes around his wrists and ankles were soft and not tighter than necessary. He hadn't been penetrated yet. This Alpha wanted to take care of him, he genuinely did. He sniffed lightly. Sherlock's scent was - it was _wonderful_. Spicy, musky, with a hint of sweetness. Exotic, dangeous, entirely seductive. John considered his position carefully as Sherlock finished cleaning him before he spoke. "I think... I think maybe I could... could let you," he admitted, blushing and closing his eyes. "But please... not today. Not yet. Let me... let me grieve for Rachel first. And I'll tell you when I'm... when I'm ready."

Sherlock smoothed his hand over John's cheek, half-smiling when he felt the temperature of the skin. Burning. The Omega was already going into heat, preparing to carry the next litter. "I'll give you what you need, John," he said softly, not explaining any further. He got up and went to fetch supplies for the days ahead; water, food, towels. By the time he returned, John was shivering and sweating, entering the final stage of pre-heat. "Please..." the Omega whined. "Please don't. Not yet. I can't... I'm not ready. I don't want..."

The Alpha moved to sit on the bed, smiling at the instinctive way his Omega sought him out, tried to wriggle closer, his body betraying his mind. "Hush, John," he murmured gently, stroking the hair away from his forehead. "It's not time yet." He unwrapped his towel and let it fall away, his huge cock standing proudly at attention, precum beading at the tip, his balls hanging heavily beneath it, full of cum, ready to breed. The musky scent radiating from him reached the Omega and drew a low moan of want from him. Sherlock purred quietly and slid fluidly down the bed, resting beside John's hip, tracing one delicate finger up his inner thigh as he continued to plead with Sherlock not to breed him yet. The Alpha slipped his finger further up, tracing the edge of the Omega's hole. Loose. Wet. Ready. He growled and crawled on top of John, one arm braced by his right shoulder, kneeling between the Omega's legs. "You have to trust me, John," he said regretfully. "I know what's best for you. You need to be bred, you need to carry my litter. I'll give you so many babies, you'll have a ripe little belly again in no time. You're ready for me now, John. Let me give you what you need."  
  
"No! Please, please no," John whimpered, beginning to fight to get free again. "I don't want to, no, please, just let me go, I don't want to, no, _please-_ " His struggling intensified as Sherlock lined himself up, the blunt head of his thick cock just resting against John's entrance. "NO, DON'T, I don't want to be bred, I don't want this, please, please - ah!" He let out a screaming little sob as Sherlock pushed inside him, the Alpha's enormous cock bigger than anything he'd had before.

Sherlock pushed in slowly, savouring the slide of John's tight walls against him, moaning shakily at the sensation, but it still hurt the Omega a little. When he was finally fully seated he exhaled a short huff of breath, stilling for just a moment to let John adjust, before moving his hips, slowly at first, gently, almost tenderly, even as the Omega continued to thrash and sob. "Hush, John, this is what you need," Sherlock whispered, continuing the smooth roll of his hips, pushing all the way in with each gentle thrust, his heavy balls brushing against John's backside. He began to moan with every movement, John's tight silky wet heat already making his knot start to form. "I'm going to fill you, John. It'll feel wonderful, I promise. You'll love having my knot inside you, it's what you were made for. I'm going to make you pregnant, John," he moaned breathily, drinking in the sight of the Omega below him, blond and tanned and stocky and beautiful. He increased the pace, John's sobs and whimpers lessening as pleasure and his heat overtook him.

  
It only took a few more minutes of quick tender thrusting for Sherlock to cry out, shove himself as deep inside John as he could go and cum hard, his knot inflating fully to fill the Omega completely as his seed rushed into the Omega's womb in a thick torrent. The Alpha moaned as his cock jerked and pulsed for a full minute until finally he was finished. He looked down at John, who was screwing his eyes shut against tears that wanted to come. He stroked John's cheek soothingly. "It's alright, John. It's alright to feel conflicted. You're still adjusting. It'll be better once my pups implant in your womb."

 

"No it's not! It's not alright! I didn't want this, any of this, I don't want to be bred so soon," John snarled, stifling a sob. "You can go to hell." He shifted, trying not to moan aloud at the sheer pleasure he felt from the knot, from being full of his Alpha's seed. Sherlock tutted and draped himself across John's front, his knot keeping them locked together. He kissed John's cheek, lapped along his jawline, suckled at his throat, rocked his hips so the knot would brush over John's prostate. "You just don't know what you need," Sherlock murmured. "I know what you need. You need this. You like how my knot feels. Tell me."

John shot him a furious look which evaporated as Sherlock rocked his hips harder and faster, quickly pushing John towards orgasm. Sherlock growled and set a relentless pace, leaving John moaning and screaming at the intensity of the pleasure, until the Omega convulsed and came, his small cock twitching uselessly. John panted, shuddering. "I - I like how your knot feels," John admitted in a tiny voice, ashamed, turning his face away, a tear rolling down his cheek.

 

* * *

 

Tim looked around the alley, searching for anything that might help. He spotted a CCTV camera on a corner of a building opposite that covered the exit of the alley and dashed towards it, hurriedly explaining his problem to the sympathetic Beta security guard. The man looked warily around for his boss and tapped a few keys on the computer before ejecting a CD and slipping it to him surreptitiously. "I hope you find him, mate. But you didn't get this from me, yeah? Could lose me my job." Tim nodded and shook his hand.

 

As soon as he was home he pulled his laptop towards him and jammed the CD in the drive, skipping ahead in the tape to where John emerged from the alley. It wasn't a great picture, but he could see John, bump in evidence, leaning heavily on a pale, dark-haired man in a long dark coat. It was a start.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock held a bottle of  water to John's lips, crooning encouragingly as he drank. His knot had gone down and he'd decided John might be more pliant hydrated and fed. He cradled the Omega's head as he fed him, John's resistance slowly crumbling as his Alpha treated him so tenderly and his heat fogged his mind.

The second time Sherlock bred him, John barely struggled. His protests were weak. He almost enjoyed the achingly tender way Sherlock took him; it was like the Alpha was making love to the Omega instead of raping him.

The third time, he was still. His eyes remained free of tears, although he kept them shut. When Sherlock knotted him, he grunted at the pleasure, only putting up a token protest when Sherlock's large hand wrapped around his cock and jerked him off, making him clench around the knot.

The fourth time Sherlock bred him, he watched. Sherlock was being as gentle as possible, hips rolling smoothly, worshipping his body. His eyes widened as he watched Sherlock's expression twist in pleasure as he got closer to knotting and he gasped as Sherlock forced his knot inside him. He clenched around it experimentally, drinking in the howl of ecstasy and surprise it drew from the Alpha.

By the eighth time Sherlock bred him, he was rocking into the motion, whining and moaning, trying to spread his legs further apart. Sherlock growled in approval and thrust a little harder, but didn't knot him. It seemed like far longer than last time and without the knot John felt oddly empty. This was it, this was what he'd been missing. "P-please," he stammered needily, blushing furiously, "give it to me. Give me your knot, please, please knot me..." Instantly, Sherlock slammed home and knotted so hard his vision went white.

 

John's heat lasted four days. Sherlock bred him again and again until they both lost count.


	4. Dilemma

 

By the morning of the second day of John's heat, Sherlock had untied his ankle restraints. John did not kick. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist as the Alpha took him, urging him deeper, blissed out on the sensation of the huge cock filling him, seeking more of that glorious knot, biting back shouts of his Alpha's name. When he was finally knotted he came untouched. Sherlock purred, kissed his lips softly. John responded. He could see now that Sherlock was right; this was what he had needed all along. When he'd come back from war broken and alone he'd never thought an Alpha would look at him, and Tim had stopped him feeling lonely, but Sherlock... Sherlock was something else. He was strong, gorgeous, clever, the kind of Alphas written about in sappy romance novels. Objectively, he was a catch. And he'd chosen to bond with John. Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows, looking down into John's eyes, searching. He seemed satisfied wth what he found there, because he untied John's wrist restraints, gingerly, but he did it. He looked back at John, questioningly. John purred and wrapped his arms around his mate.

Between knottings they slept twined together, purring and nuzzling each other. By the third morning, John had discovered a love of riding Sherlock so hard the bed creaked as he threw his head back and moaned whorishly, a grin of ecstasy spread across his face. When Sherlock decided they should shower, he ended up lifting John off his feet and fucking him up against the shower wall, panting against his mouth, kissing him deeply as he filled the Omega with another load of his seed.

  
On the fourth day, Sherlock lay back on the bed and let John explore him, touching and tasting, ending in an extremely satisfying blow job. He smiled as he pulled John onto the mattress, switching places with him, and dipped his head to lap at John's hole and taste his juices. He worked John with his tongue until the Omega was screaming, begging to be fucked or allowed to come.

John woke on the fifth morning, free of the heat hormones, wrapped gently in Sherlock's arms and curled up against his chest. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. He stayed where he was, his Alpha's scent calming and addictive at the same time, thinking about everything that had happened. Sherlock had forcibly bonded, abducted and raped him. There was no getting aorund that. He'd forced John to miscarry so he could breed him. Something fizzed in John's chest as he realised he was, at this point, inevitably pregnant. But after the incredible sex he'd just shared with the Alpha, the lucid moments in between when they talked and laughed... he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. If he believed in soulmates, he'd believe Sherlock was his. The man hadn't been violent, hadn't hurt him or tried to humiliate him, wasn't asking him to wear a collar, had made sure he was comfortable... and he'd made love to him. Yes, it was rape... at first. But the way he'd taken him... he'd been as gentle as possible, never giving John more than he could take. The man was a mystery. He rubbed his cheek against Sherlock's chest, covering himself in his Alpha's scent. He was still angry that his choice and his baby had been taken from him, but he knew now that he needed Sherlock. Even without the bond, he'd have wanted this man; the bond simply meant he didn't have to feel quite so guilty about it.

Sherlock woke not long after, purring loudly at finding John still curled up in his arms. He nuzzled and kissed the Omega, rubbing his belly fondly, knowing that John was now carrying his litter. He slid his palm up John's body, cupping the soft mounds of his growing breasts, the only reminder of his previous pregnancy. He kissed his way down John's throat until his lips met the Omega's nipple and he darted out an inquisitive tongue, lapping and circling, before gently closing his mouth around the nub and beginning to suck. John mewled, panted, closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shoulders, crying out in surprise when he felt a prickling sensation in his nipples and milk began to leak from them. Sherlock growled approvingly and suckled a little harder, emptying both breasts before crawling on top of him to give him a long, slow kiss. "You're such a perfect Omega," he breathed reverently, "your body was already making milk. You were made for this, made for me. Mine. I'll take care of you," he murmured, pressing more kisses to John's face.

The Omega smiled under the praise and the kisses, tilting his head to allow the Alpha better access to his neck. His breathing quickened as Sherlock took full advantage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh, leaving his marks in plain sight. "John," Sherlock moaned, "you are... indescribably wonderful. You're _interesting_ and brave and handsome and perfect. I will adore you until I die, if you let me." John snapped his eyes up to meet the Alpha's, inhaling sharply. He stroked his mate's cheek, purred quietly, and spread his legs. "I think I could love you too," he breathed. "Not right away. We've got some work to do before we're okay. But I think I could love you."

Sherlock made love to him, slowly, caressing and kissing, touching him in all the right places until he was quivering and chanting mindlessly, clinging to the Alpha, moaning for more.

 

* * *

 

Tim punched the wall in frustration, quickly regretting it. He swore at the pain and hopped around cursing, his hand pressed between his thighs. He'd got nowhere with his search; all he had was a grainy CCTV image, a time and place. The police had refused to help further, since John was now bonded to an Alpha, and he'd spent two days ringing every cab company he could find but none of them would tell him if they'd picked up a pair matching their description. He'd been into every business, knocked on every door near the exit to the alley to ask if anyone had seen anything. Nobody had. All he could do was wait for the bond to be registered, he thought helplessly, hiding his face in his hands as tears filled his eyes. He was under no illusions, he knew that by now it was almost certain that the new Alpha would have forced John to miscarry, might even be breeding him right now. He wailed and curled up, clutching one of the sofa cushions. He'd never been good at waiting. "I will find you, John," he whispered fiercely. "I will come for you."

 

* * *

 

Sherlock pushed the plate towards John, loaded with a full English breakfast, kissing his hair when he accepted it. They ate in companionable silence, as if they'd done this every morning for years, and curled up together on the couch to digest. "When are you going to register the bond?" John asked absently, playing with a button on his mate's shirt.

"I'm not," Sherlock replied casually, quirking an eyebrow at the look of confusion and hurt on John's face. "You're not? But - but what about-?" John sputtered, blushing red, unable to articulate his feelings. Why would Sherlock take him, make him his own and then refuse to register the bond? Their pups would be the ones who suffered for it, since they'd have no legal rights to their father's name or estate, but John wanted it for more than that; he wanted this incredible connection he felt between them to be recorded, cemented, recognised.

"Oh don't worry," Sherlock murmured, rubbing his back. "The bond will be registered. But I'm not going to do it. You are." John blinked at him in confusion. Sherlock sighed and continued, still cradling his Omega close to his chest. "We haven't had the best start," he said carefully, "but I want this to work. Us, our future, our family. I want it. But I want _you_ to want it too. If you chose to, you could apply to have the bond dissolved, have this pregnancy terminated. I've shown you how good we can be together, shown you what I can offer you, so now it's up to you. You choose if you truly want this. Take some time to think about it, you are obviously welcome to stay here, but if you wish to return to your old flat I will not stop you. You may wish to say goodbye to your Beta. Our bond is fully formed, it will not hurt you to leave my presence." He kissed John's forehead, nuzzling him, pleased when he responded.  
  
"I should - I have to go back to the flat," he said eventually. "I have to talk to Tim in person. He deserves that much."

 

* * *

 

Tim sat in the dark, unable to summon the energy even to turn on the lights. Yet another day of searching had come to nothing. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever see John again when he heard a key click in the front door lock. He held his breath as the door swung open and his jaw dropped as he saw John, real and warm and breathing, step into the flat. He rushed towards him, scooped him tightly into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "You came back to me," he wept, "You came back. I will never let you go again." He pressed his face into John's neck, drawing back as if burned when John flinched away; that was for his Alpha, John thought, only Sherlock could touch him like this.  
  
"I'm so sorry, I didn't think," Tim breathed miserably, thinking John's reluctance was due to his ordeal. His eyes slid to John's flat belly, his face crumpling as his worst fears were confirmed. "What do you need?" he asked, hovering close to John, misreading the odd expression on his face as trauma. "I think I just need to sleep for a while," John said noncommittally, not meeting his eyes. "We can talk in the morning."  
  


Later, John lay in their guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling - he hadn't been able to face curling up in bed with Tim. It felt horribly cruel, but he only wanted that with Sherlock now. He sighed and rubbed his belly, the knowledge that it was full of Sherlock's pups oddly comforting. But at the same time, he had a life here; this flat, Tim, an established routine. Familiarity. Did he really want to give all of that up for his Alpha? Tim adored him. He'd never have forced him to do anything. He'd never even get rough during sex, but - after being with a real Alpha, fucked hard up against the wall, knotted, John _wanted_ it rough sometimes. Before Sherlock, Tim had been satisfying enough in bed, but now he'd had an Alpha he wasn't sure Tim could quite match up. He turned on his side and punched his pillow. He'd shower and think about this tomorrow, free of hormones and Sherlock's scent.

 

* * *

 

 John told Tim that Sherlock had taken him from the alley already bonded, had ejaculated onto him to induce miscarriage, and had bred him. He didn't give further information and Tim was too afraid of what he might hear to ask for it. John stirred his coffee thoughtfully and continued. "He's given me a choice. I can apply to have the bond dissolved, have an abortion, he won't stop me. Or I can go and register the bond myself." He fell silent as Tim took in the full implications of what he'd said.  
  
"We tried for so long just to get R- Rachel," Tim managed shakily. "If you wanted to keep - I'll raise them as my own. When you dissolve the bond we can legally get married again, we can buy you one of those anti-bonding collars or put you on scent blockers so this doesn't happen again, and we can be a family. This doesn't have to change anything."

"But it's changed _me!_ " John shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "I'm NOT the same anymore and I don't want to live in fear, having to change who I am to be safe." He breathed heavily, his heart tearing itself in two at the shocked, betrayed, utterly miserable expression on Tim's face. He sighed. "You're a good man, Tim. I just need a bit more time to think about this."  
  
"You can't seriously be considering going back to him?" Tim asked incredulously, suddenly furious at the guilty look on John's face. "For gods sake, John, the man's a monster! He abducted and raped you! He forced you to miscarry our baby! He obviously doesn't care about you one little bit and this _choice_ is just another fucking mind game!"  
  
"You don't understand!" John snapped, "How could a Beta ever understand? He knows what I need and he can give it to me, but he wants me to want it! That doesn't make him a monster!"

Tim's jaw dropped. He looked at John like he'd never seen him before. "You believe that, don't you?" he murmured disbelievingly. "You're right, I don't understand why you'd even CONSIDER building a life with your rapist. Silly me, I thought you based your life choices on free will, not biological imperative. But you're forgetting something John, I made you happy once. I could make you happy again, if you let me. I'm sure as hell not going to let you go again without a fight."

John paused. Inhaled. Tim was right; he had more choice here, free of the Alpha scent. He _had_ been happy with Tim. The Beta wanted him without being able to scent him, without biology telling him he had to have him. In the lust and heat, he'd forgotten the simple joy of sex with his former husband. Maybe he just needed to reconnect with him. Share a bed again, kiss him, make love. It was worth a try.


	5. Torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos so far! It's always nice to have feedback :)

 

It took three nights before John could stomach sleeping in his old bed with Tim, and even then he still couldn't curl up with him. The memory of being curled up like that with his Alpha still poked sharply through his chest, bright and warm, and it tugged at him. He still wanted it. But the longer he was back at the flat, the more he began to wonder - was it all just a reaction to the shock and the heat? He'd felt a connection to Sherlock, yes, but could he really abandon his marriage and a man who had sworn to love him without being able to scent him for the Alpha? 

Tim tried to bring up the topic of John's decision a few times, but soon learned to leave it alone. John would not be rushed. He knew Tim had sworn to raise them as his own, but anyone would know the pups weren't his. Betas could only produce Betas, even when IVF let them have children with Alphas or Omegas. Alphas and Omegas always made more Alphas and Omegas, so the litter in John's belly couldn't possibly be Betas. John and Tim were both fair-haired and tanned, Sherlock was pale and dark. It would be obvious. But did that matter? Genetics isn't everything, John thought to himself. Love is what makes a family. Tim wouldn't hold it against him that the babies weren't his. He'd be a good father. 

John found himself experiencing huge swings of emotion unrelated to his current situation about two days after he returned to the flat; he was feeling Sherlock's emotions through their bond. Mostly it was annoyance, sometimes exasperation, on rare occasions it was excitement. At night, it was always loneliness tinged with longing. When those feelings came through, he always turned away from Tim. Because he felt it too. 

He decided definitively somewhere around the six-day mark that he was going to keep the babies. He'd never really intended to have an abortion, he wanted children too much to end his second pregnancy. The whole incident with Sherlock was starting to feel like an odd dream, and he started to believe what Tim kept telling him; he'd experienced a reaction to stress and danger and sharing his heat with the Alpha, nothing more. It was self-preservation. He started to try to tune out the stray emotions that kept slipping through the bond, but couldn't quite bring himself to end it. 

  
He stood in the bathroom, tracing his fingers lightly over the raised bitemark on the back of his neck. Even after the bond was dissolved, that mark would never entirely fade. Everyone would always know an Alpha had claimed him. He smiled without thinking. 

A week and a half after John's return, Tim tried to initiate sex for the first time. He kissed John's lips, tentatively, hopefully. John didn't pull away, which he took as encouragement. He deepened the kiss, pulling John closer, but suddenly John jerked away, panting a little. "I - I can't," he said weakly. "Not yet. I'm sorry."  
  
Tim swallowed thickly and nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. "You won't let me touch you," he said evenly. "We can't make this work unless you let me back in. Would you at least let me hold you tonight?"  
  
John shook his head miserably. "I - I don't want to be touched yet," he lied, hiding his face. Stress reaction or not, some small part of him he couldn't shake still wanted Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after the bonding, Sherlock was pacing in the living room, growling. John should have returned to him by now. Perhaps that insipid little Beta had convinced him to give their marriage another try. That wouldn't do at all. John was _his_ and nobody else must touch him. He checked his watch; the Beta would be at work. He pulled on his coat and strode out the door. 

 

* * *

 

John started at the knock, instantly on alert. Tim shouldn't be back for another four hours. He padded over to the door and gasped when he yanked it open to reveal his Alpha standing there, glowering, his scent powerful. "I had to see you," the Alpha rumbled quietly, crowding John up against the wall. "I've missed you." John inhaled, subconsciously pressing closer. He needed more of that scent, he'd _missed_ it, missed his Alpha. Sherlock chuckled dipped his head and captured the Omega's lips in a soft kiss; John whined and pushed into the contact, opening his mouth eagerly to allow Sherlock's tongue inside. The Alpha bent down and hiked John's knees up, wrapping the Omega's legs around his waist, and carried him to the bedroom as he continued to kiss him. He stripped them both, licked and nuzzled the Omega's chest, lapped at his balls and hole, flipped him onto all fours and mounted him, pushing into his body with a low moan. No words passed between them, but their communication never ceased; moans, keening whines, roaming hands and lips, the rocking of hips and John clenching around Sherlock was all they needed. 

Sherlock knotted him three times, twice on the bed and once on the kitchen table. He left his scent all over John, wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and left him with a lingering, tender kiss, his arms wound around John's waist. John almost whined when he swept out of the flat, fighting the impulse to follow.

 

* * *

 

John had a very long shower before Tim got home, his face grim. It had shocked him, how easy it had been to give in to the Alpha's advances. He knew he couldn't let Tim touch him again; he knew how incredible being with his bondmate was now, and nothing would ever be able to compare to that. The thought of having sex with Tim... it left him cold. But his heart ached at the thought of leaving him, this man who had healed him and loved him when nobody else would, this man who offered to raise a rapist's babies as his own, who cherished him and never so much as flinched when he saw another man's mark on John's neck. If John left him, went to be with Sherlock, Tim would be heartbroken. He deserved better than that. 

John moved back to the guest bedroom that night.

 

* * *

 

Another week passed, and Tim watched as John became more and more withdrawn, barely speaking to him. He brought it up only to be brushed off time and again until he couldn't stand it any longer and sat John down, insisting they talk. 

"I feel like there's a wall between us," he began softly. "It's like I can only see you through glass. I know that what happened must have been deeply traumatic, so if you don't want to talk to me... would you at least talk to someone else? A counsellor maybe? I'll give you all the space you want, I just have to know you're here with me. Do you want to make this work?"

John saw the hurt and desperation in his eyes. He nodded, feeling like a traitor. Sherlock had been visiting him while Tim was at work every day since the last time. He never turned the Alpha away, the man's seed still inside him when Tim came home. He had begged to be knotted every time.

 

* * *

 

Counselling was not a success. After the first session, attended by Tim, John hadn't uttered a word. When he went back alone, he briefly talked about the forced bonding and the rape, how he'd felt for enjoying it, but then - he'd started to want it. To beg for it. To enjoy it. And suddenly he didn't want to talk about what had happened as if it was a problem. He was pregnant with a litter of his Alpha's pups, he'd enjoyed a mind-blowingly good heat; his Alpha had taken care of him, given him what he needed. He saw that now, Sherlock had been right. Sherlock knew what John needed, even if John didn't see it at the time. But he still couldn't find it in his heart to abandon Tim. 

 

* * *

 

Sherlock was restless again. This was unacceptable, John was allowing pedestrian sentiment to keep him with that dull little Beta. Something had to be done. He'd missed nearly a month of John's pregnancy, he couldn't and wouldn't miss any more. The pups needed to know his scent and touch, to bond with him as their father. He steepled his fingers under his chin and began to formulate a plan.  
  
It didn't take him long to find Tim's workplace. It was even easier to engineer a scandal; some mind-control drugs he'd _acquired_ at Baskerville ages ago slipped into his morning tea and a few carefully placed suggestions had the Beta shagging his very enthusiastic secretary across his desk, stripping off and skipping through the hallways scattering flowers from an imaginary basket, and attempting to plant burgers in the car park so he could "grow a beef tree". It made the evening papers, Sherlock smirked to himself. 

 

* * *

 

John had packed by the time Tim was released from police custody, glad of the excuse to leave. "I need some space," he'd offered as an excuse, but Tim saw through that in an instant. "John, please," he all but whined, tears stinging his eyes, "I don't know what happened today but that wasn't me, I swear, I don't know what got into me but I'd never have done any of those things normally, you know that. Please, John, I'm begging you, don't go," he choked brokenly, sinking to his knees, reaching out for the hem of John's jacket. 

John backed away, fighting back tears of his own. "Maybe it was just the stress. Losing - losing Rachel, and this bond... I need to be somewhere stable. I can't have that here, not at the moment. I'm sorry, Tim," he breathed, his voice shaky and thick. He picked up his case and walked out without a backwards glance, leaving the Beta sobbing on the floor, curling in on himself in his grief. 

 

* * *

 

By the time John got to Baker Street, his own tears had dried and he was more jumpy than sad. The closer he got to the presence of his Alpha, the more excited he became, and as soon as Sherlock answered the door John threw himself into his arms, rubbing against his chest and mewling. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he murmured, nuzzling into his neck. Sherlock allowed him to suckle his cock as an apology, brushing his hair out of his eyes and whispering "I forgive you, John," as he swallowed.

 


	6. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark!Sherlock is dark. Poor Tim.

 

John winced as his phone rang for the eighteenth time that day, the caller ID showing that Tim was still trying to reach him. He'd been ignoring the calls, but Tim had just started leaving voicemails instead, crying like a petulant child as he begged John to reconsider.  
  
 _John, I'm sorry - Please come back to me - I can't lose you, we're too good together - I won't let you do this too us, we fought too hard to be together - where are you, if I could just see you I know you'll realise what we have - please John, please come back to me - tell me where you are, I want to see you - you can't give up on us John - I love you, come back to me - you can't leave me after everything I've done for you - I need you John, please come back._

He pushed the phone deeper into his pocket, knowing there was no point in turning it off, pressing the end call button without picking up instead, Tim's persistence and desperation beginning to make him feel sick. He picked up the pen in front of him and signed his name boldly, without hesitation, on the bond register. He smiled as the lady behind the desk handed him the freshly-printed bond registration certificate, and took it home to Sherlock like it was a prize. 

 

Sherlock purred loudly as John presented him with the certificate. He swept John into his arms and kissed his forehead, nuzzling him possessively. "You're irrevocably mine now. Completely mine. Always mine. Nobody else touches you, not ever, do you understand?" John shivered at the masterful tone in his voice and nodded, burrowing into his chest. "Good," the Alpha murmured. "I will never allow you to dissolve this bond. I'll take good care of you, you'll never want to leave me, but that Beta can never have you back. If he tries to take you away from me, I'll kill him." He kissed John's lips, passionate and greedy. "Go and finish unpacking," he breathed gently, "and then I think I'll have you in our bed, with your legs wrapped around my waist while I knot you."

 

He was as good as his word, fucking John until the Omega was yelling incoherently with need and pleasure, begging again and again for Sherlock's knot, telling him how much he loved his huge Alpha cock, how he couldn't wait to swell big and round with his litter. John never noticed Sherlock's phone on the beside table, silently recording every sound. When Sherlock finally forced his knot into John's tight hole, John screamed, coming hard, trembling in his arms. "You're so perfect," Sherlock murmured reverently, kissing him. "I'm going to turn you into such a little knot-slut. I'll give it to you every morning and every night until it's all you can think about." John whimpered. "Please," he breathed, "please, yes. I love your knot, I need it, want it in me all the time..." Sherlock smirked and hushed him with more kisses, reaching out to stop the recording. Later, when John was showering, he sent it to Tim. That stopped the calls for a couple of days. 

 

But then Tim started showing up outside John's workplace, giving the receptionist letters and flowers to give to John, hovering around the entrance when he thought John was due to end his shift. John always avoided him, got security to remove him, but he took one of the letters home to read, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

 

_My darling John_

_I don't blame you for this, I see now it wasn't your choice. You've been brainwashed by that Alpha, you think you love him, but you don't really. He just tricked you into coming back, acted like a decent man, but he's not, he's a monster, you have to see that. You don't have to stay with a rapist, John, come back to me, let me love you. I'll look after you, we can be good together, you know we can. I will never stop loving you, John. We could be a family. I'll never believe it's over, it's just the bond making you feel things that aren't you. I'll wait for you, John. I will try to win you back every day until my heart stops beating._  
  
Your loving husband  


_Tim  
_

John stared at the letter with distaste. Tim was wrong. He'd chosen to go to Sherlock, he'd been trying to find a way to leave Tim since almost as soon as he got back. He'd never realised how badly he'd needed an Alpha until he had one, and now that he did, he knew he could never be satisfied with a Beta, bond or not. He threw the letter in the bin and thought no more about it. 

Of course, Sherlock found it. He growled, a low rumbling sound that shook the whole flat. He knew John did not need to be punished, he'd thrown the letter away so obviously didn't intend to go back to him, but that Beta needed to be dealt with. 

He surreptitiously stole John's phone and hid it without him noticing. The Omega happily went to work without it, covered in his Alpha's scent after a thorough fucking on the kitchen table, and Sherlock smiled predatorily as he tapped out a message. 

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Tim rushed up the stairs to find a blacked-out flat, the windows all covered with heavy blinds. "John?" he cried out, "I've come for you John. It's alright now, I'll take you home.  Where are you, my love?" He wheeled around when the door slammed shut behind him. He never saw the chloroformed rag that knocked him out. 

He woke with his face pressed into a pillow that smelled of John's shampoo and groaned blearily. Cold air danced across his back and he realised with a thrill of horror that he was naked, lying on his stomach with his hands and legs tied to the four corners of the bed. Shit, this was bad. 

"Ah good, you're awake," Sherlock said conversationally, "I've been waiting." He sounded irritated, as if it was highly rude of Tim to keep him waiting. Tim shivered at the tone in his voice. "I know what you did, you monster," he hissed at the Alpha, jerking at the restraints. "When I get out of here I'm going to do everything I can to put you behind bars!" Sherlock merely rolled his eyes. Would these idiots never learn? "Then what reason do I have to release you?" he murmured, moving to stand over him. "You can't keep me here forever," Tim spat viciously. "Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of doing that," Sherlock replied, flexing the riding crop. 

"You tried to persuade John to leave me," he began, his voice dangerously light. "He is _mine_ now. In a way you could not possibly understand. I _own_ him. I am his Alpha and he will always need me. Even if you begged him every day to take you back, you could never satisfy him. You would do well to accept it." 

"I will _never_ give up on _my husband!_ " Tim shouted, struggling more violently. Sherlock grinned. "I rather hoped you'd say that. John - is - mine!" He punctuated each word with a sharp blow from the riding crop. Tim cried out at the pain, gritting his teeth. "You're sick," he snarled, defiant. Sherlock tutted. "You've seen nothing yet."  
  
By the end of the hour, every inch of Tim's back and thighs were covered in welts and bruises from the crop. "Have you learned your lesson yet?" Sherlock purred, crawling on top of him, scraping his teeth over the back of Tim's neck. "Or shall I demonstrate why John needs me so much?" Without waiting for a response he shoved two fingers brutally inside Tim's hole, making him scream and twist in pain. Sherlock had grown bored of Tim's incessant chatter, so he'd gagged him, but the muffled sound was still satisfying. He worked him open quickly, without consideration, deigning only to coat his cock in enough lube to push it roughly inside the Beta. Tim screamed louder at that, the pain unbearable; the Beta wasn't designed to be penetrated at all, let alone by an enormous Alpha cock. Tears began to run down his cheeks as he sobbed and winced. Sherlock grinned. "John loves it when I do this to him," he whispered in Tim's ear, beginning to thrust. "He can't get enough of it. He begs me for it - you've heard. He spreads his legs for me and rubs up against me, mewling for my cock. He's such a lovely little slut, he'd have my cock inside him constantly if he could. He's just _made for it._ You can feel how massive it is, can't you? Do you think he could ever be satisfied with your little Beta cock after spending so long writhing and moaning on mine?" He nipped sharply at Tim's earlobe. "But it gets better, doesn't it... Oh yes. John _adores_ my knot. Do you want to know how it feels? I think I should show you. Help you understand why he'll always come back to me." He thrust harder, his pace increasing, not bothering to draw out the pleasure. Tim's eyes widened in fear and he started babbling through the gag, pleading as best he could, _no, no, please no, you'll damage me_. Sherlock knew that. He grunted, shoved inside as deeply as possible, his knot inflating instantly. Tim howled in agony as it tore him. 

When the knot deflated, Sherlock pulled out roughly and left the Beta bleeding and leaking cum on the sheets. He showered leisurely, cleaning all traces of Tim and sex and sweat from his scent, and sauntered back through. "I think I've shown you why John will always choose me, but I'm not convinced you respect my ownership," he said darkly. He dosed the whimpering, shivering man with more sedative and untied him, moving him to a kitchen chair. He bound his ankles to the chair legs and tied one of his hands behind him, strapping a scalpel to the other. He sat opposite, viewing his tear-stained, pain-crumpled face with satisfaction. "Now it's time for you to have a little more control," Sherlock purred. "You are going to use that scalpel to carve _John belongs to Sherlock_ into your skin. I don't much care where, so that's up to you. You have one hour, and if you haven't finished by then I will do it for you, and I don't mind if you bleed to death before I'm finished." He opened a bag of popcorn and sat back in his armchair. 

Tim sobbed freely, struggling uselessly against the chair. He spent ten minutes crying, pleading with Sherlock through the gag, but Sherlock merely looked bored and continued to munch at the popcorn. He raised his shaking hand and began to trace the message on the top of his thigh, wincing with each sharp slice. 

Sherlock inspected the finished message and smiled. "Good. Very good. There's just one order of business left." He pulled out the letter and held it in front of Tim's face. Tim whimpered. He knew what was coming. Sherlock cooed soothingly and lifted the cloth covering the kitchen table, revealing six items. A gun, a length of rope, a syringe, a large kitchen knife, a plastic bag and a rubber duck. "Choose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which one should Tim choose?
> 
> 19/12/13 Edit: The rubber duck has been overwhelmingly the favoruite so far so Tim shall choose the rubber duck! Next chapter will be up in the next few days :)


	7. The Rubber Duck

 

Tim's eyes widened when he saw the selection before him, fresh tears stinging his eyes. He swept his gaze along the line, sobbing, but stopped instantly when he saw the rubber duck. He frowned in confusion, and looked at Sherlock, searching, but got no answers, the Alpha's face inscrutable. He jerked his head towards the duck, trying to say "duck" as clearly as he could through the gag. 

"The duck?" Sherlock purred, snaking an elegant hand out towards it. "Are you sure?" Tim nodded vehemently. How could a duck be threatening? It had to be part of a game, the only chance at life - how could you kill someone with a rubber duck? Sherlock smiled, picking it up. "I rather hoped you'd choose this one." He turned it over and over in his hands, examining it with interest. "Did you know that _none_ of these things actually kill you?" he asked conversationally. "The rope and the bag don't kill you... it's the lack of oxygen that does that. The syringe won't kill you either; it's the drugs that stop your heart. The bullet won't kill you, nor will the knife - it's the bloodloss. So you're right... the duck itself won't kill you either. But I'm not going to tell you how just yet. That would be no fun..." 

Tim had given up sobbing loudly by this point, allowing the tears to fall in silence down his salt-stained cheeks. His heart ached for John; his life, his baby had been taken away, and he was left to be a brood mare for this evil maniac. _I'm sorry, John,_ he thought to himself, _I tried. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you_ _from him. I'm sorry I let you go out alone. I'm sorry I couldn't be your other half, your Alpha._

Sherlock strode to the bathroom and ran a bath; warm, but not boiling. He dipped a hand in to test the water and smiled - perfect. He returned to the kitchen, gave Tim another dose of chloroform to make him pliant enough to untie, and transferred him to the bath. He tied his ankles together and tied his wrists in front of him, attaching them to the grip bar on the wall to make sure he couldn't run, and placed the duck on the edge of the bath. He waited for Tim to wake and grinned at him when he opened his eyes. "There now, does that feel better? I imagine a warm bath is quite soothing... on your back, at least. You can still feel my huge cock, can't you? Feel it filling you up. You can imagine how much John loves it, can't you? How he mewls for it and rides me desperately, bouncing on my hard prick, begging me to fill him up with my seed?" He laughed as Tim whined and more tears fell. "But we can't have a bath without the rubber duck, can we? I'd say this will be quick and painless, but, well - I'd be lying." He knocked the duck into the water. 

Tim stared blankly at the duck, which was bobbing innocuously in the water, its painted eyes gazing at him without malice. Nothing happened. He flicked his eyes to Sherlock, confused. Sherlock smiled. "Oh, don't worry. You see, that duck is filled with iodine pentafluoride. There's a stopper in the bottom with a channel carved in it, stuffed with paper - the water will disintegrate the tissue and when it does, the stopper will weaken just enough for the iodine to start escaping. It's highly corrosive, did you know that? And _very_ reactive with water. It will fizz, and froth... and react with the water to form hydrofluoric acid." He pulled a full-face gas mask out of the cabinet and slipped it on. "Hydrogen fluoride gas can damage lungs and eyes... can't take any chances. But in water... in water it will _burn_ you. Deep tissue burns, initially painless, but it will start to eat away at you and dissolve you before its full effect kicks in... you see, with that much iodine pentafluoride in the water, the whole bath will turn to acid, and eventually, you'll die - not of the burns, oh no. Cardiac arrest. _Your heart will stop beating._ " As the Alpha finished speaking the duck began to hiss, a small fizz at first but growing more and more violent, until suddenly it was flipping and zooming around the water like a loosed balloon, the sound of fizzing filling the room as the liquid began to react and turn to acid. Sherlock grinned and flipped open a notebook, pen poised. He noted the time and turned his eyes back to the test subject, who was tugging frantically and uselessly at his restraints. 

 

* * *

 

Mycroft sighed, leaning more heavily on his umbrella as he pressed the doorbell for the third time. He waited another few minutes before smoothly withdrawing a key from his pocket and letting himself in. He rolled his eyes at the muffled screams coming from the bathroom and made himself a pot of tea as he waited for Sherlock's experiment to finish.

 

* * *

 

The bathwater was starting to burn him, the cuts from the scalpel and his injuries from the rape the first places to sting as the acid worked its way into his bloodstream. He screamed as he breathed, in and out, constant and agonised. His mind filled with images of John; sweet, wonderful John, so brave, so happy to be having their baby, so warm when they cuddled up together in the morning. He wept as the acid began to eat away at him, choking on his sobs, as he knew he would never see the Omega again. John would be left with this monster, forcibly bonded and believing he needed and loved the Alpha. He thrashed, fighting to the last, desperate for any way he could loosen the ropes and escape, but it was no use; Sherlock knew what he was doing. 

Sherlock scribbled away in his notebook, jotting down the timing and intensity of his screaming with a mildly interested expression, as if a particularly interesting documentary about foxes was on tv. He had heard Mycroft come in, of course, but his brother could wait. He raised his eyebrows as Tim began to convulse and scratched a fresh note with his pen.

 

* * *

 

Mycroft smiled tightly at his brother when he finally emerged, quirking a disdainful eyebrow at the sight of the gas mask. Sherlock inhaled deeply in the clean air of the living room, the extractor fan clearing away any traces of lingering chemicals. "I would offer you a cup of tea, but it appears you have already helped yourself... do you have official business here or are you simply here to irritate me?"

The other Alpha stirred his cup calmly and rested the spoon on his saucer. "I have a case for you," he said delicately. "What did you do to them this time?" He inclined his head towards the bathroom.

"Acid bath by rubber duck," Sherlock beamed proudly, like a toddler trying to impress his parents. "Not the most elegant, far too much splashing, but certainly effective. Forty-five minutes from initial contact to cardiac arrest."

"How fascinating," Mycroft said lightly, producing a thick manila folder from his briefcase and leaving it on the coffee table. "The usual exchange?" Sherlock glared at him sharply as he picked up the file, thumbing through it quickly, before nodding and sauntering off to his bedroom with his prize. Mycroft sighed and pulled out his phone. "Send the waste disposal team to 221B Baker Street. It's in the bathroom this time."

 

* * *

 

John purred loudly as Sherlock snuggled up behind him on the sofa and began to rub his belly, still flat at only six weeks. Soon it would be time for the first scan, and they'd find out exactly how many pups John was carrying, Sherlock thought happily. "How was work?" he asked the Omega, nuzzling him tenderly. "It was good, but exhausting," John smiled. "I know I'll stop soon, but... would you let me choose when? I know it's your right as my Alpha to demand I stop now, but I'd like to work as long as I can." Sherlock beamed and kissed him. "Of course, John. I know you value your freedom and I want you to have as much of it as possible. It is my duty as your Alpha to make you happy." John relaxed at that, pressing closer to Sherlock and pressing a tentative kiss to his lips. "I hoped you'd say that," he breathed happily, biting his lip. "I'd like - I'd like to sleep in your bed tonight," he added softly. Sherlock inhaled sharply, eyes wide; since John had come back to him he'd allowed the Omega to sleep in the guest bedroom, getting used to living in the flat, living with his Alpha, and they'd had sex (lots of sex, lots of highly athletic, noisy, sweaty sex) but John hadn't been ready to cuddle with him at night like he used to with Tim. "Of course," Sherlock replied huskily, pulling John closer. 

They slept twined together, as they had done during heat, and when they woke, Sherlock crawled on top of John and made love to him gently, sharing smiles and tender kisses. 

 

* * *

 

The sonographer moved the wand over John's stomach, tiny white forms appearing on the screen. Sherlock held John's hand as he counted. "One... two... three... _four,_ " he beamed proudly. "Oh, John. A full litter... Perfect," he breathed, turning to face him. He recoiled a little in confusion when he saw the thunderous, pinched look on John's face. "John?" he murmured, moving to touch his cheek. John jerked away and swung his legs off the bed, grabbing his coat as he stormed out of the room. Sherlock stood and called after him, growling in frustration as he retrieved his Belstaff and hurried after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! This story will now be on hiatus until January because I've got a ton of coursework to write BUT I WILL BE BACK I PROMISE!!


	8. Lethevalemax

Sherlock rushed down the corridor after John, tugging at his coat sleeves when he caught up with him. “John, John, what is it?” he asked desperately, searching his eyes. John glared at him, breathing heavily.

“Four,” he hissed quietly, “ _four._ I already had one, but you took her away from me, and I’m supposed to be happy with four? Like they could replace her? When I went back to Tim, he offered to raise your babies as his own. He knew what you’d done to me, that you’d forcibly bonded and raped me and that you’d killed our daughter, but he’d still have raised your offspring as his own because _he loved me_! And you… you expect me to carry on like this is what I wanted?”

The Alpha turned pale, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. “ _John,_ ” he managed eventually, “I… but you came back. You chose me. I’d have let you stay with him if you wanted to, I _would,_ but you chose to come back to me! You know what we can be together, John. You know we couldn’t have had this if – if you’d had Tim’s child. Alphas do not, _cannot_ raise another man’s child. It drives us mad and makes us dangerous, I would have killed her after she was born anyway, this was – less harsh. I know you’re hurt John but please, please let me make you happy.”

John had clenched his fists at his sides and was clearly deciding whether or not to hit him. Sherlock watched him nervously, his fear and distress obvious in his eyes, but made no move to stop him. “Please, John,” he begged again. “You’ve seen how good this can be, how strong our bond is. Let me take you home and spend the rest of my life showing you how happy I can make you. You’re an Omega John, you _need_ an Alpha… and you haven’t been sick in the mornings, have you? You were with – with Rachel.” He said it slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say her name. John winced, but nodded, appreciating the gesture, the acknowledgement. “Your body knows you need this. It’s okay to want this, John. It doesn’t mean you love Rachel any less. You’re allowed to be angry with me, but I promise you, it will pass. Please, John, let me hold you, let me take you home.” Sherlock half-raised his arms, taking a small step forward, but John stepped back. Sherlock flinched and dropped his arms.

“I need a bit of time,” John said huskily. “I’ll meet you back at the flat.” Sherlock set his mouth in a firm line and nodded, standing and staring as John strode away from him and out into the cold.

 

* * *

 

 

It felt strange, to be climbing the stairs in his old building again. He paused for breath when he reached his floor; twelve weeks into his pregnancy, he was starting to show. John carefully zipped his coat shut, not wanting Tim to see the bump; he just wanted to talk, explain that he wouldn’t visit again, he didn’t want to hurt him. He raised a hand to knock, exhaling sharply when he realised it was shaking. He forced himself to steady it and knocked three times, shifting nervously from foot to foot. A minute or two passed and nobody answered, but just as he raised his fist to knock again the door swung open; a slim Japanese woman stood looking at him quizzically. “Can I help you?” she asked politely, obviously with no idea who he was. “I was – er – I was looking for Tim?” he mumbled, confused. “Oh, right, he doesn’t live here anymore,” the woman replied, “Landlord said he just left one day and never came back. Didn’t leave a forwarding address, and must have taken all his stuff because the place was empty when I moved in. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” She smiled at him, genuinely and tinged with a slight sadness. He didn’t manage to return it. “Yeah, that’s okay… right… thanks,” he said abruptly, turning on his heel and marching back down the stairs.

 

He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked through the park, kicking twigs and leaves out of the way, a furious debate raging inside him. That didn’t sound like Tim, leaving like that, with no notice. Then again, grief makes people do strange things, he thought to himself, hating the idea that it was he, John, who had hurt him. Obviously he couldn’t handle losing John and Rachel and decided to make a clean break, go somewhere completely new. John couldn’t really blame him for not saying goodbye.

 

Sherlock paced nervously in the living room, waiting for John to come back. His Omega was out there alone and unprotected and he _hated_ it. Normally his violin would offer him some comfort or distraction, his experiments could divert him for half an hour or so, but today he could settle to nothing. When John finally returned, he rushed up to him like an eager puppy, offering to take his coat and make him tea and rub his back and fluff the cushions for him, flapping around him solicitously, and John couldn’t help but smile at the attention. He allowed Sherlock to bring him tea and rub his feet, holding back the purr of pleasure that wanted to come as his Alpha’s attentive behaviour. “I went to see Tim,” he began carefully, satisfied when Sherlock looked up sharply, his face drawn with apprehension. “I wanted to say goodbye, but he’d moved out. I don’t know where he went. I’m not going to look for him.” Sherlock visibly relaxed, kneading John’s feet with tenderness. “I’m glad, John,” he mumbled quietly. “I – I don’t want to lose you.” John nodded. “I know. I don’t want to leave, not really. This is all just a bit… overwhelming. I like what we have, I think I’m growing to care for you very deeply, and I can see that we work together. It’s just… it’s going to take me a while to get over how we got here. Rachel will always be with me. Being necessary to have this doesn’t mean I can’t grieve.” The Alpha nodded penitently.

They made love that night, slowly and tenderly, Sherlock doing everything he could to please his Omega, kissing him softly as he thrust into him, careful of his expanding belly. John fell asleep with his Alpha’s knot inside him, Sherlock’s arms enclosed protectively around his vulnerable mate.

 

“Mycroft, I need a favour. That new compound you’ve been working on, Lethevalemax… I want you to give some to John. I need him to forget Tim and Rachel, only Tim and Rachel. He will forgive me eventually, and I could wait, but it might take ages and he will hurt in the meantime. This will be much easier.”

On the other end of the line, Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “As you wish, brother mine. But you will do four cases of my choosing.”

“Two,” Sherlock countered immediately, never able to surrender to his brother without a fight.

“Three, and I won’t make you come home for Mummy’s birthday.”

“Done,” Sherlock grinned.

 

Precisely one week later, John’s last patient of the day was a tall red-headed man in a pristine three-piece suit. None of the staff would ever remember seeing him. John correctly diagnosed his sprained ankle (blasted treadmill, Mycroft cursed to himself) and wrote him a prescription for painkillers, which the man took gratefully, and shook John’s hand as he left. Instantly John buckled, the tiny hypodermic needle emanating from Mycroft’s signet ring having injected him with a fast-acting anaesthetic. When he came to, he’d been dosed with Lethevalemax, and the red-headed man was twirling his umbrella idly while an unfamiliar man in a white coat held up pictures of Tim, their flat, the baby things they’d bought for Rachel, all of their scans, records, everything that proved their life together had existed. “This never happened,” the man was saying. “This was just a dream you had one night a long time ago. Not important. No need to cling to it. Let it go, John. It was only a dream, you don’t need to remember it. It never existed. You were never married.” John blinked, nodded agreeably. Of course. Of course it had just been a dream. “You met your Alpha when you were out shopping one day. You returned to his home immediately to bond and breed. You wanted him, you wanted it.” Yes, John thought. Obviously.

 

When he returned home that night, the drug had worn off. Sherlock glanced up carefully, clearing his throat. “Tim called while you were out,” he said casually. John looked at him blankly. “Who?” Sherlock shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have been a wrong number. I assumed he was a friend of yours.” John shook his head. “I don’t know anyone called Tim.”

 

* * *

 

As John passed the halfway mark in his pregnancy, Sherlock became more protective, barely letting John leave the flat on his own, insisting on bringing him to crime scenes so he could watch him at all times. John found he liked the attention, liked watching his clever Alpha at work, and cooed as he stroked his round belly. The babies kicked and rolled inside him, and he smiled, blissful.

They’d had another scan, and found out they were having two boys and two girls. After endless arguments about names, they settled on Michael, Maxwell, Mariella and Melody. They set up the spare bedroom upstairs as a nursery and John spent every night being lulled to sleep by his Alpha’s hands roaming over his swollen belly, praising the Omega for carrying a full litter so well. John loved it.

 

* * *

 

Just as he hit six months pregnant, John was going for a walk to celebrate when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to answer it, since Sherlock had deigned to go to the shops for food, and opened it to reveal a young woman with light brown hair, who gasped when she saw him. “John,” she gawped, “how… What?” She was obviously confused. “Where’s Tim?” She glanced at his belly, obviously full of questions, delicacy preventing her from asking them. “Who’s Tim?” John asked blankly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know a Tim. Hang on… you said John, you know my name – who are you?” The woman’s jaw dropped. “Who – John, it’s me, Donna!” The Omega merely blinked at her. “You know, Donna, Donna Hathaway – your sister-in-law?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short. Sorry it's another cliffhanger! IT'S JUST HOW I ROLL. More angst and darkness ahead. Sherlock gets dark again. Poor John


	9. Expendable

John blinked at the woman in confusion. “But Sherlock doesn’t have a sister, and Harry isn’t married, so how can you be…? I’m sorry, you said you were looking for a Tim, but I don’t know any. So who exactly are you?”

The woman’s expression gained a touch of horror. “What the hell happened to you?” she mused to herself, collecting her thoughts. “Timothy Joseph Hathaway, Beta, thirty-six years old, dentist. Not ringing any bells?” John shook his head. “John – he’s your _husband,_ how can you not remember him?!” she asked incredulously, staring openly as his belly. “I thought you were due in November,” she added slowly, raising her eyes back to his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John frowned, “I’m bonded to an Alpha. I don’t have a husband. And I’m only six months pregnant, I’m due in March.” He shifted nervously from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the nosy woman’s questions and feeling vulnerable without his Alpha. Sherlock chose that moment to appear and snarled at Donna, racing up the steps to sweep John into a protective embrace. John whined softly and clung to Sherlock’s coat, burying his face in the Alpha’s chest.

“Who are you and why are you upsetting my mate?” Sherlock growled, glaring at her. “I’m his sister-in-law!” she shouted indignantly, glaring right back. “And you’d better tell me what’s going on because John apparently doesn’t remember his husband!” The Alpha kept his face a careful mask, allowing no surprise to leak onto his features. “Shh, John, it’s alright, I’m here, I’ll protect you,” he murmured into his Omega’s hair, petting him gently, cooing when John burrowed further into him with a soft mewl. “Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll explain everything _fully,_ ” Sherlock invited evenly, his glare disappearing and a charming smile materialising in its place. Donna blinked, taken aback, but nodded and followed Sherlock into the flat.

The Alpha sent John to their bedroom with a kiss to hush his whine of protest; John wanted to be near his mate, but Sherlock knew best, and snuggling into their bedding, still steeped in the scent of their morning’s lovemaking, would soothe him just as well. Sherlock strode to the kitchen and filled the kettle, flipping it on with a nonchalant flick as he gestured to an armchair. “Make yourself comfortable,” he invited, pleased when the woman took him up on the offer and settled onto the sofa. Of course he noticed that her eyes kept flicking in the direction of their bedroom, obviously bursting with questions about John and wanting the answers from the Omega himself, but she made no attempt to go after him, so Sherlock concentrated on making the tea. He smiled as he handed her the cup and relaxed into his own chair, taking a deep sip of his own Darjeeling.

“I apologise for my earlier hostility,” he said easily, “I invariably react badly to my Omega’s distress. You came here looking for Tim, I believe? Rest assured you will not leave without answers. I realise this must all seem very confusing, but it’s really very simple. You aren’t close to your brother, are you?”

The change in tack caught Donna off guard and she gulped down her tea before narrowing her eyes at him. “No, I’m not,” she agreed warily. “But I haven’t heard from him for six months. That’s off, even for him.” She blinked twice in rapid succession and half-shook her head. “He should have called by now. So where is he?”

Sherlock simply smirked at her, setting his cup down. “Well, I could tell you. But I think you should come over here and suck my cock instead. You’ve never had an Alpha, have you? You want to know what a real Alpha prick feels like in your mouth.”

Donna gasped disbelievingly, her face scandalised. “How _dare_ you?!” she spluttered indignantly, even as she found herself rising from her seat and walking to him like a moth to a flame. Her eyes widened and terror crossed her face. “What’s happening?!” she demanded, her voice shrill with panic, sinking to her knees between Sherlock’s spread legs. In the bedroom, John stirred briefly from his nap, but gave a soft snore and turned over, tugging the blankets around himself and dropping quickly back to sleep.

“I thought it would be reasonably obvious,” Sherlock snorted, unzipping himself. “The tea I gave you was drugged. You will be extremely suggestible for the next hour and will do anything I say. Once I’m satisfied I’ll tell you what happened to your brother. Now suck me.” He placed an imperious hand on the back of her head and forced her forward, moaning lowly as he pushed into her mouth. “Mmm, that’s nice… make it good,” he ordered, closing his eyes lazily as she began to bob her head, swirling her tongue. “You like how my thick cock feels in your mouth?” Donna moaned stupidly, drool running down her chin as she sucked him off on autopilot. He luxuriated in the feeling, lolling his head back on his armchair, keeping constant firm pressure on the back of her head with his hand; he wasn’t chasing an orgasm, he was simply enjoying her submission. After a few minutes he tugged on her hair, pulling her off with a wet pop, and stood, pushing her onto the chair. “Kneel, brace your arms on the back, spread your legs,” he ordered, pushing up her skirt even as she moved to obey, silent and glassy-eyed. He pushed her knickers to one side and buried himself in her without preamble, grunting at her tight heat, the effects of the drug making her wet and pliant. “I’ve never fucked a woman before,” he said conversationally, as if remarking that Tesco was out of milk. “I’m only attracted to male Omegas. But I can see why others might like this – it’s almost silky.” Gripping her hips, he began to pound into her, hard and fast and without mercy. “Ngh – I’m going to come in you. Fill your womb with my seed. You’re fertile, I can smell it, even on a Beta. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be pregnant. Too bad for you that you won’t be leaving this flat alive.” “

“Hrraaaghhh,” Donna drawled in reply, her whole body jerking with the force of Sherlock’s thrusts. “That’s it, take it,” the Alpha growled, “it’s too bad I can’t have you screaming from how my huge cock is filling you. But John needs his rest, after you stressed him out like that. Bad girl.” The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room, mixed with Sherlock’s grunts and Donna’s occasional mumbling, muffled screams and moans dying in her throat. Just as it had been with Tim, this was not about pleasure; Sherlock pounded her relentlessly, taking what he wanted without consideration, until after a few minutes he felt his knot start to swell and forced it inside her, groaning loudly as he came, rolling his hips to coax out the last of his orgasm. He kept a tight hold on her hips as he waited for his knot to go down, growling in triumph when he sensed the subtle change in her scent that only an Alpha could have noticed so early; his seed had fertilised the egg he’d known was waiting and it had attached to her womb. She was pregnant. “It’s lucky I’m not sentimental,” he mused, pulling out as his knot softened. “I’d be in a bit of trouble otherwise. A full litter from my Omega, and a pup from you… it simply wouldn’t do at all. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, then climb into the bath,” he ordered, going to check on John.

The Omega was still sleeping soundly. Sherlock smiled, stroking his hair and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, John,” he purred, “I won’t let anything come between us. Not ever.”

  
When Sherlock strode into the bathroom, he smiled to find Donna sitting obediently in the tub. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet, gazing at her thoughtfully. “Why didn’t Mycroft know about you?” he wondered aloud, “Why wasn’t it obvious Tim had a sister?”

“I’m only his foster sister,” Donna replied robotically. “Our mothers were friends, but my parents died when I was a year old. His family took me in, but never adopted me officially. I only took their surname three years ago.”

Sherlock nodded. “Well, I did promise to tell you what happened to your brother, didn’t I? I’d better start at the beginning. I met John in an alley one night as he was going back to Tim’s flat from the shops. He smelled _delicious_ and I simply had to have him. I bonded him right there up against the wall, took him home, forced him to miscarry, tied him to my bed and fucked him until he was carrying my own litter. Then I let him go back to Tim, let him choose. John chose me, and Tim couldn’t accept that. He began to stalk John, sending him letters and flowers, showing up outside his work. Then one day he came to the flat.” He picked up his old-fashioned straight razor and turned it over idly in his hands. “I drugged him, tied him to a kitchen chair, tortured him with a scalpel, and let him choose his own end. He chose death by rubber duck.” Sherlock paused to snigger at the thought. “Oh, I forgot to mention that I raped him. Let him feel exactly why John needed an Alpha, not a puny little Beta. My knot tore him. He screamed.” The Alpha enunciated the last word slowly and clearly, relishing the memory. Somewhere in Donna’s mind, her brother’s terrible fate registered, and a tear escaped to roll down her cheek. “Now, now, don’t be sad,” Sherlock chided, “you’ll be joining him very shortly. I’d hate to separate siblings for too long.” He held the razor out to her. “Slit your wrists. Careful not to let it spray out of the bath.”

He watched dispassionately as she grasped the offered handle and sliced her own arm without hesitation, sitting there impassively watching the scarlet blood gush into the porcelain tub.

 

* * *

 

 

Sliding into bed beside John, Sherlock purred quietly, gathering his mate close. John blinked awake and pressed closer. “Who was that? What was she talking about?” he mewled enquiringly, rubbing his face against Sherlock’s chest. “Don’t worry about her, darling,” Sherlock murmured condescendingly, “she was an ex-patient of yours who got a bit too obsessed with you. She invented a fantasy as a way of getting closer to you, wanting to be in your life. I can’t blame her, really, can I, my clever little doctor?” John blushed and purred, rubbing his swollen belly proudly.

 

No more family members came looking for John.


	10. Protege

Over the next two months, Sherlock watched proudly as John grew ever rounder and more swollen with his litter. As the doctor passed the seven month mark in his pregnancy, they agreed he should stop work, and Sherlock began to feel the urge to stay home, to guard his mate; John felt the insistent tug of instinct demanding he nest, and constructed a warm bolthole in the upstairs bedroom full of woollen fabrics and Sherlock’s worn sleepshirts.

They still slept twined together, the Alpha’s hands roaming greedily over John’s swollen belly as they drifted off, cosy and close, Sherlock nuzzling and kissing the mark he’d made on the Omega’s neck. John was perfect, Sherlock thought to himself; the doctor grew more reliant on him with each passing day, but retained his bold personality, which suited the detective perfectly. There was still something the Alpha wanted, though, something which would mark his ownership of John for all to see.

He broached the subject when they were curled up together on the sofa, John mewing for attention and Sherlock’s touch on his gravid bump. Obliging with a smile, Sherlock dropped soft kisses to John’s face and neck, and began to whisper into his ear. “You’re so perfect, John. Such a good Omega, growing so well for me. Perfectly round with my children, just like you should be. Everyone can see my mark on your neck, knows how you’re my Omega. You like how I take care of you, don’t you?”

John whined breathily and nodded, eyes fluttering in pleasure as Sherlock caressed his belly sensually. The Alpha smiled. “I’m so glad, John. You know that I know what’s best for you, you trust me to give it to you.” Another nod from the doctor. “That’s good, my perfect Omega. You need never want for anything, my love. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, keep you as my pampered little pet just like you deserve. You’ve earned a collar, John,” he purred, making it sound like the highest possible honour, and suddenly John found that he wanted it more than anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock fastened the thick leather collar around John’s neck happily, dark blue to match his eyes, the shining brass tag reading _Property of S.H_. He rewarded the delighted Omega with a long, slow kiss and carried him to the nest to sleep.

The longer John wore the collar, the more suggestible he became, the more he succumbed to instinct to please his mate. Sherlock was thrilled. John was ready for the next stage in his transformation to become Sherlock’s perfect mate.

It was time for another experiment. Sherlock selected his victim carefully; it was a former classmate of John’s, who he knew from Mycroft had tried to get John thrown off their course by accusing him of plagiarism, and had since shown up at the clinic hurling abuse. He set up an appointment at Baker Street with the man for 2 o’clock in the afternoon and spent the morning lavishing attentions on John, making him feel utterly adored.

A little before the man was due to arrive, Sherlock began his carefully prepared speech. “You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you John?” he began softly. “Yes, I do,” John smiled shyly, rubbing his bulging belly as the babies turned and kicked. “Good,” the Alpha smiled back. “I will always do anything I can to make this world more pleasant for you. It’s in my nature; where I see a chance to make an improvement, I’ll take it, even if there is a little… collateral damage. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, wouldn’t you agree?” The doctor looked a little confused, but nodded and purred happily anyway. “Let me prove myself to you, John,” Sherlock entreated earnestly. “Let me show you how much I love you. If you could choose someone, anyone, to take revenge on, who would it be?”

John hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head and purring as he felt the reassuring restriction of the collar. “Guy Schofield,” he murmured after a while. “He was really horrible to me at uni, tried to get me fired from more than one job, all because he had this weird power complex and he didn’t like being outperformed by an Omega in our exams…” Sherlock beamed and dropped to his knees in front of John, clutching his hands. “I thought you’d say that,” he babbled eagerly, “and I’ve arranged for him to come here this afternoon. I want to show you what I can do, John. For science, and for you. You’ve helped me on cases before, seen my chemical experiments… but now I want to show you all of it. I want us to be a complete team, living and breathing as one unit,” he breathed, his eyes lit with a strange and ferocious passion. John lost himself in his mate’s enthusiasm, and beamed at him, thrilled the Alpha wanted him so utterly.

Half an hour later, a semi-conscious Guy Schofield found himself tied to a chair in the middle of Baker Street at Sherlock flipped through case files with John. “Choose anything you like,” he murmured indulgently to his Omega, “I’ve got most of the things we could need.” In the end, John chose a very interesting case; a man had been found dead in his garage, with his stomach cut open and the contents of his toolbox resting in the space. The man’s wife claimed he must have accidentally sliced himself with his chainsaw and pulled the toolbox on top of him as he fell; Sherlock explained to John exactly how they could prove she was lying, and John’s face lit with a conspiratorial grin.

“Back with us?” the doctor asked Guy lightly, noticing that their guest’s eyes were beginning to flutter. The man struggled and glared, but attempted no reply through the gag. “I’m so glad. Because I’d hate for you to miss this. It’s called karma, Guy. It’s what you get for being a colossal arsehole your entire life. But don’t worry, you’re going to help put a murderer in jail, and that’s something, isn’t it?”

John strode over to the kitchen table to fetch the chainsaw, the clear plastic sheeting protecting the walls and furniture rustling as he walked on it. When the revving of the engine started, Guy began to scream. “Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” John chided, striding back over. “I’m not going to kill you.” The man whimpered, but relaxed a little, gazing wide-eyed at John. “No, no. My Alpha is going to do that. I’m just going to assist,” the doctor smiled sweetly, handing Sherlock the chainsaw and dropping his safety glasses into place. The screaming started again as Sherlock advanced.

“It’s lucky I had the foresight to bolt this chair to the floor,” Sherlock remarked conversationally, cocking his head to one side as he regarded the desperately struggling creature before him, sobbing and red-eyed, his fear palpable. “Read me the autopsy report, John. The relevant sections.” John picked up the file and flicked to the right page. “One deep incision to the abdomen running laterally across the torso just underneath the ribcage, extending as far back as the spinal column, made at a slight angle,” he quoted.

“Marvellous,” Sherlock grinned, and angled the blade as he sawed into Guy’s stomach. The Alpha let out a horrifying, gut-wrenching scream at the pain, the gag barely stifling any of it as he struggled in vain to escape the spinning, eviscerating agony. Blood flew fast off the blade, spattering the sheeting, gushing from the wound as Sherlock withdrew the chainsaw and switched it off. Guy was convulsing by now, struggling for breath as blood loss and shock began to set in; he’d been all but sawn in half. John watched with an odd mix of satisfaction and pride in his mate as he began to hand the Alpha the tools to fill the cavity.

“Oh look, he’s died,” Sherlock remarked conversationally as he wedged a spanner into the bloody mess, reaching an imperious hand out for the next implement.

 

* * *

 

 

“So you see John, the tools had to have been pushed in by hand, it couldn’t just have been gravity and momentum from being pulled off the workbench. And because there’s blood on all of them, even the ones sitting on top, we know they can’t have just fallen; if they had, the topmost ones would be clean, because he’d have bled out in a pool onto the floor. They got smudged when she picked them up with bloody hands.” Sherlock pulled his Omega a little closer, spooning him and lapping at his neck. “I have to do these things, John. I hope you understand that. There are monsters out there, and they do bad things to good people. I have to stop them. Yes, I do bad things too, but only to bad people.”

“I understand, Sherlock,” John murmured contentedly. “You have to make the world a better place. For me. For our babies. To help catch criminals. To fight the monsters.”

“Exactly, John,” Sherlock beamed, delighted. “Sleep now, my love. We’ve got work to do in the morning.”


	11. The Cobra

As it turned out, Mycroft did all of the work; the only price was a disdainful sigh and a promise to send their father a birthday card. Sherlock smiled serenely as the soiled sheeting and mutilated body were carried from the room by sombre men in hazmat suits.

 

* * *

 

 

The closer John got to birthing, the less Sherlock wanted to leave the nest; his naturally selfish nature combined with his growing Alpha instincts, and soon he was even refusing to take Lestrade’s calls. The rate of murders solved went down, but Sherlock didn’t care. He had John to tend to, wonderful John, _interesting_ John, who never bored him. They stayed locked up in Baker Street, nuzzling and nesting, until the babies came.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a long labour. John heaved and panted, struggling to force each large child out of his tight hole, whimpering between his contractions. Sherlock soothed him as best he could, mopped his brow, encouraged him gently. “Come on John, you can do it,” he murmured, “just a few more pushes.”

 

Mariella was born first. Michael and Melody followed not long afterwards, and Maxwell finally entered the world after seventeen long hours of exertion. John cried, glad it was over. Sherlock cried, overwhelmed at holding his children.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I want to go on birth control,” John announced when the babies were three weeks old. He wasn’t due for another heat for just under six months, and Sherlock blinked at him in surprise. “I think we should concentrate on these four, make sure we find out feet, before seeing if we can cope with more. You got me pregnant so quickly after we met, I think it’d be good for us just to be parents for a while without worrying about the next lot.”

Something ugly and dark stirred in Sherlock’s chest. He wanted to refuse, wanted to breed the Omega during his next heat, but then he saw the fire in John’s eyes, the set of his mouth and the steel in his spine, and simply nodded. John might be _his_ , but what he’d told the Omega was true. He wanted his mate to be happy, wanted him to _want_ to be there. If he’d wanted a simpering breeder he’d have chosen someone else, he reminded himself; he wanted someone like John with defiance and spirit.

 

* * *

 

 

Their first real fight came courtesy of the collar. John refused point-blank to wear it outside, and kneed Sherlock in the balls when the Alpha pinned him to a wall and tried to force it on him. “I SAID NO!” the doctor roared, shaking with anger. “It’s fine in here, but I am NOT going to wear a collar in public like some PET! It’s only for at home, IS THAT CLEAR?” Without waiting for an answer, he swept past his mate to climb the stairs to the nursery, where the babies had been awoken by the shouting and were crying for attention. He shoved the shopping list into Sherlock’s hand, with a look that said _if you come back here without everything on that list I will end you._

Sherlock stood dumbly for a few moments, still massaging his aching crotch, considering while he caught his breath. He half-shook his head and bundled out into the street, needing fresh air and exercise to clear his head.

 

He returned an hour later to a calmer John and four happily cooing babies, who squealed at his scent and waved their pudgy arms. He approached his mate contritely, his eyes large and puppyish, nuzzling him and whining to ask for forgiveness. John smiled, carded a hand through his hair, and purred quietly.

  

* * *

 

 

As the babies grew, Sherlock began to take cases again. Lestrade was so grateful for the return of the Alpha’s help he gave him the choicest cases, even let him dig through some of the old ones. John looked after the pups until they were old enough to go to nursery, and then he began to go to crime scenes with Sherlock; the Alpha found his mate’s presence grounding, helped him think, and John’s medical training sometimes came in useful. In his free time the doctor would sometimes pick up a few shifts at a local clinic, clean the flat, or just go for long walks in Regent’s Park, enjoying the greenery. Although he didn’t remember it, he was happier than he ever had been with Tim.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One day when the babies were ten months old, Sherlock barrelled into the living room at top speed, shouting desperately for his mate. “John! JOHN! Where are you?! John! Please tell me you’re here, JOHN!”   


The Omega hurried downstairs. “Yes, I’m here, what is it, what’s going on?” he asked worriedly, huffing a small _oof_ when the detective swept him into a tight bear hug. “Oh, John,” he breathed, “I had to make sure you were safe. The case… it’s – it’s… Do you remember reading about a string of murders in the papers a couple of years ago? They started calling the killer ‘the Cobra’ because all the victims were found with puncture marks in the neck, injected with snake venom… He's been inactive for so long, but... they found another one this morning, and I – I didn’t know where you were, and I – I _needed_ to make sure you were safe,” he finished breathlessly, staring at John with wide, needy eyes.

“Hush, love, it’s alright,” John murmured, stroking the Alpha’s inky curls. “You’ve got me now. I’m safe with you. Our babies are safe upstairs. Nothing to worry about.”

Sherlock held him tightly for another quarter of an hour, just in case.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the following six months the Cobra continued to strike across London, seemingly at random; the victims appeared to have nothing in common, were a mix of sexes and secondary genders, ranged in age from eighteen to eighty and none of them seemed to have any enemies. The only similarity between the crimes was the locations of the bodies; they were always found north of the river, and always somewhere quiet. Parks, alleys, even once the men’s toilets at Finchley Road tube station; it made Sherlock’s blood boil in frustration.

“It doesn’t make SENSE!” he roared, shoving files angrily off his desk. John tutted and set a cup of tea down in front of him, balancing Maxwell on one hip while the other babies threw soft blocks at each other in the playpen.

“You’ll get there love, I know you will,” he soothed, kissing his forehead.   
  
“This one’s different,” Sherlock huffed, “he doesn’t strike for _weeks_ at a time and then there could be three attacks in a night. He doesn’t choose from one victim profile, he never leaves his scent at a scene…”

“You keep saying ‘he’,” John pointed out, “if you know nothing about this Cobra person how are you so sure it’s a man?”

Sherlock’s gaze snapped to the Omega, his face displaying his shock. “Oh! OH! John, that’s – of _course! Obvious!_ ” He snatched up his coat and sprinted out of the door, shouting “I’ll be back in four hours!” over his shoulder as he slammed the front door.

 

* * *

 

 

As good as his word, Sherlock was back four hours later, positively buzzing. “I’ve looked over all the cold case files,” he breathed, “and I think you might be right. The police – and I – assumed it was a man because there were never signs of a struggle, it seemed natural to think the victims were overpowered quickly and easily – and the needle was always stuck into the neck with some force, so it had to be someone reasonably strong, but – but the _angles_ , it was always down, so it would have been someone tall, but what if it was a woman, and the victims were kneeling? We’re not looking for a tall man – it was a _honeytrap!_ We’re looking for a short woman,” he grinned, sweeping John into a hug and covering him with kisses.

 

* * *

 

 

A little over a week later Sherlock trudged into the flat, his mouth tight and his eyes hollow. “There’s been another one,” he sighed, without waiting to be asked. “This time in the women’s toilets at Green Park. Looks like your theory was right, at least. We’re one step closer to catching her. I just don’t _understand,_ ”he complained, “and I hate not knowing. You – you will be careful, won’t you? Until we catch her?”

“Of course I will, love,” John replied, rubbing his Alpha’s back. “As if I’d go off with a strange woman anyway.” He felt Sherlock’s smile against his cheek and turned his head to kiss him.


	12. Facade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *SO* sorry this has taken so long. I meant to get this done far sooner but life got in the way! I promise you that I won't abandon this fic though - it WILL be finished, and I'll update as quickly as I can manage. 
> 
> xxx

Sherlock stalked in the front door, slamming it behind him and heading straight for John. He pinned the Omega to the wall and ravaged his mouth with a fierce kiss, possessive and dominating, working his trousers open with one hand.

“Sh-Sherlock,” John gasped between kisses, “not now. I’ve just got back from work, I’m tired, I –”

“I don’t care, John,” the Alpha growled, gripping the Omega’s hips and lifting him to pin him against the wall. John struggled, furious.

“Put me down, you wanker! I said no!”

Sherlock snapped his teeth at John’s neck in warning, still growling. The Omega went still, breathing heavily, eyes wide. “I need this, John,” the Alpha murmured darkly, working efficiently to pull John’s trousers down, “you are my Omega. I want you. I can’t think straight, I need to fuck you… need it.” With a low grunt he forced his throbbing cock deep inside John and began thrusting desperately, moaning at his mate’s tight heat and obvious submission. John simply clung to Sherlock’ shoulders, refusing to make a sound, determined not to respond to the feelings of _homeAlphasafe_ that increased with each rough thrust.

As Sherlock neared his orgasm he began moaning more loudly, sucking dark bruises into John’s neck and gripping his hips a little tighter so his marks would be on him there as well. “My Omega,” he groaned reverently, his voice thick with longing, and he thrust his growing knot home, locking himself inside John as he pulsed wave after wave of come into him.

John couldn’t help but gasp, the flood of reward hormones released by his brain when his Alpha knotted him making him come in spite of himself. When Sherlock carried him to their bed and nuzzled and licked him affectionately until his knot deflated, John did not protest. He knew that Sherlock knew best.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so, what do we _actually_ know about this Cobra person?” Lestrade said wearily, taking a large steadying gulp of coffee. “We can’t seem to get any solid info on her.”

Sherlock inhaled deeply. “We know she’s strong because of how she left some of the bodies, an adult then. She knows London well, knows where she can go and not be seen, knows where to avoid CCTV, so she’s either from here or she’s lived here for a while. Victim profile is inconsistent – a mix of sexes and primary genders, nothing in common, but all of them willingly followed a stranger to an isolated location, so it’s likely she’s reasonably attractive and good at disguising her primary gender so she can appeal to a wider pool of victims. _Method_ of killing says medical knowledge and access to chemicals, so a pharmacist or a nurse or something similar. We don’t know how she chooses her victims or why, but there must be _something_ , something we’ve overlooked. I just don’t know _what_.” He snarled angrily, pacing back and forth in Lestrade’s office as if the Detective Inspector was deliberately withholding clues from him.

A sharp knock at the door announced Donovan’s arrival. “Sir, I’ve got the background checks you requested… Hello, Freak,” she sneered nastily, handing the file to Lestrade.

“Sally,” Sherlock replied, forcing his mouth into a sarcastic smile with an expression that said _I hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck_.  She opened her mouth to make a disparaging remark, but at a warning cough from her boss thought the better of it and marched out of the office, closing the door with perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Sherlock,” Lestrade called, his tone cautious, “there _might_ be something we’ve overlooked. All of the known victims so far – all twenty-three of them – all had a spouse that died. It didn’t show up in the original case files because all of them were bonds that never got fully registered, because the spouses died within a year of the bonding. All that got filed was the death certificates, with the bondmate’s name in the space for spouse.”

The Alpha’s eyes lit with a fierce enthusiasm. “Brilliant! That has to be it, that _has_ to be the link. How did they die? Were the spouses suspects? How long ago were the cases, where did the deaths occur, when did…” He continued to fire questions at Lestrade, who groaned internally and poured himself another coffee. It was obviously going to be a long night.

 

* * *

  
“And then the farmer’s daughter wept, for she could no more spin straw into gold than she could pluck the moon from the sky and wear it on a chain. The king had given her until daybreak to complete her task, and she knew it to be impossible. But just as she began to truly despair, a little man no more than two feet high appeared, and begged her not to cry.

‘Weep not, pretty maid,’ the strange creature pleaded in a high, thin voice, ‘I will spin the straw into gold for you. All I ask in return is that silver ring upon your finger.’

The girl readily agreed, and the little man was as good as his word. All night long he sat at the spinning wheel, working the treadle with a steady rhythm, and within an hour of dawn every single strand of straw had been spun into shining gold. The maid opened her mouth to thank the little man, but he vanished with a wink into a puff of smoke, and before she could cry out in amazement the door to the chamber swung wide and the king walked in.

‘Well done, lass!’ the king boomed, mightily pleased, ‘You have done well to spin all of this straw into gold so fine. You shall have a pretty cottage for your trouble.’”

“John, what on _earth_ are you reading our children?” Sherlock chimed in, loosening his scarf as he strode across the nursery to kiss his Omega.

“It’s a classic,” John retorted defensively, humming in pleasure at his mate’s affections. “Besides, you said it was good to read to them.”

“Book!” Mariella demanded imperiously, waving her fists up at her parents. John chuckled. “She is _so_ your daughter,” he murmured happily to Sherlock, nuzzling his neck. “Why doesn’t Daddy take over, hmm?” Sherlock heaved a put-upon sigh and sank into the rocking chair, pulling John into his lap, and began to read.

Soon all four of their children were sleeping soundly, and Sherlock kissed each of them on the forehead before leading John downstairs to discuss the case.

“We’ve finally got a lead,” he explained excitedly, “Each of the victims had a mate that died within a year of bonding. That _has_ to be significant, although the death certificates all say natural causes, which is _weird_ , it doesn’t _fit_ …”

John crooned encouragingly. “What about the autopsy reports?”

Sherlock shook his head. “They haven’t come through yet, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of days. But there’s _still_ something missing, I can sense it! Why can’t I crack this?” he exclaimed angrily, punching a pillow.

“It’s a while since you’ve done one of your… experiments,” John offered cautiously. “Maybe that would help clear your mind?”

The Alpha looked up sharply, eyes wide. “Oh, _John_ ,” he breathed, utterly delighted with his choice of mate. “ _Yes._ Would you… would you care to assist me?”

John smiled. “Anything for you, love.”

 

* * *

 

 

The city banker – and former university acquaintance of Sherlock’s – struggled uselessly against the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. “Now, now, Sebastian,” Sherlock reprimanded primly, “a gentleman knows when he’s beaten. Be a good sport and make your choice.”

John watched, fascinated; Sherlock had told him that this was his favourite method. Sebastian eyed the line of implements with despair obvious in every line of his face, wincing when he saw the glint of the razor-sharp knife. He rejected the rope and the plastic bag, wavered over the gun, and then – he jerked his head, his choice made.

Sherlock beamed and turned to John. “I love it when they choose the rubber duck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“That was _brilliant_ ,” John breathed, nuzzling against Sherlock’s chest as they lay in bed. “That was… that was _art_.”

Sherlock preened at the praise. “I can show you so much more, John,” he murmured. “I’ll show you everything I’ve learned, if you’ll share it with me. I want you to be a part of this, and I never dreamed… I never _imagined_ you’d take to this so well. I thought it might scare you off.”

“Nah,” John grinned cheekily, “I’m a doctor, remember? I’ve seen worse. Besides, you never pick someone who doesn’t deserve it.” He kissed his Alpha’s lips softly, then with more heat. “And speaking of _deserving_ … I think my mate deserves a nice, slow blow job for being so ingenious, what do you think?”

The Alpha could only moan his approval as John’s mouth enveloped him.

  

* * *

 

 

Sherlock sat bolt upright in bed, his mind now relaxed and at leisure to make connections he had been too stressed to see before. “John,” he intoned urgently, nudging his dozing Omega, “ _John!_ ”

 

“Mmmwas’matter?” John mumbled, batting the detective’s hand away. “Ham’s in the fridge beside the kneecaps…”

 

“John, it’s the Cobra. I think I know who it is.”

 

John went still. Slowly, he turned over, his face pale, his eyes wide. “Who is it?” he breathed, his voice steady despite his fearful expression.

 

“A woman who knows London well, with medical training and access to drugs?… John, I think it’s Molly.”


End file.
